


Serenity

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 14:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15317313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Hank wakes up and realizes he's got a reason to get out of bed now.(Domestic ficlets compiled for your reading pleasure)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: i've decided to turn this into a series of sorts where I just dump all my ficlets of hankcon domestic bliss shit. Enjoy.
> 
> this won a patron poll and so i wrote it! im almost done with my book work too, so you should see me back with longer works very soon. enjoy!

Waking up on Saturdays were always a hit or miss sorta thing. Namely because Hank rarely woke up at an hour that could still graciously be called morning. Even on weekdays he was known to sleep far past any semblance of decency, wasting the hours away tossing and turning, closing his eyes to the sunlight streaming through the blinds. To the promise of another day of abject misery and self-loathing. There was no point in waking up to a world that hardly welcomed him. So, Hank would sleep. He’d sleep and sleep and wish he could keep sleeping even when he was awake.

Weekends were the worst of it. On those days, he’d be lucky to let Sumo out before falling face first into his pillow, dead in every way but the one that counted. 

But today… Today, Hank awoke to an odd sort of smell. Not bad, like vomit or stale beer. Not sour like bad breath or bitter like cigarette smoke from a bar’s ashtray. Hank wrinkled his nose and grunted into his pillow, blinking blearily as he lifted his head. It smelled sweet, oddly enough. Sweet and warm and like a memory he’d all but buried in the back of his mind. 

A glance to the side told him he was alone. Hank lifted himself upright and ran his fingers through his hair, blinking slowly at the digital clock resting on the nightstand. It was barely past nine. On a Saturday? God, what the hell. Better not tell anyone. They might think he was hitting the  _ recovering  _ part of alcoholism if they caught wind of him waking before noon. The thought made him nearly smile. Stupid. He felt good today. Better than he had in a long time. 

Throwing off the blankets, Hank stood and stretched half-heartedly. That smell was getting stronger and it was beginning to wake up more than just his attention. His stomach gave a burgeoning rumble. Hank moved to the door and opened it, holding up a hand at the bright early morning sunshine streaming in through the windows. The sound of one-sided conversation greeted him as well as the delicious smell of pancakes and fresh coffee. Hank breathed in deeply, letting it out as he dropped his hand. All of it washed over him in a wave as warm as liquid light. 

“Sumo, I’ve already told you,” Connor chastised, wagging the spatula at the dog with a pout on his lips. “You’ve already got your breakfast, okay? This is for Hank.  _ Hank _ , got it?”

Sumo let out a disgruntled harrumph, nosing even harder at Connor’s hip as he tried to stick his nose in the skillet on the stove. Connor sighed. He spread his legs a little wider, pushing at Sumo’s shoulder with his hip. The stolen boxers clung desperately to his hips as he did so, threatening to slip down at any moment. 

It was a setting redolent of some old, cheesy family sitcoms Hank used to watch as a kid. Brady Bunch or that… fuck, what was it called? That old black and white show that dad used to watch… Leave it to Beaver. Hank shook his head and moved forward, resting his weight against one of the chairs around the table. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw the way Connor had set it. Two placemats but only one fully set. Connor always wanted to sit with him when he ate meals, even if he couldn’t share in them himself. It made Hank’s chest feel a little funny, a little tight. He cleared his throat, looking up. 

“You’re gonna have to do a whole lot more than that if you want him to give up,” Hank called out. Connor immediately whipped around, spatula still posed in the air. Sumo’s tail wagged quickly, using the lapse in security to make one more mad rush for the pan’s contents. “Hey, Sumo!”

“Oh, come on,” Connor complained, his attention moving back to the dog that had managed to snatch a pancake from the pan. Sumo swallowed it in one bite, barked happily, and was quick to trot out of range of Connor’s reach, content with his spoils. Connor crossed his arms and pouted furiously. He turned back to face Hank, an artificial blush high on his cheekbones. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, the edge of his sweater slipping down his shoulder. No wonder, really. It was one of Hank’s too. “Breakfast might be a bit longer.” Connor ruffled his messy hair, letting out a sigh. His hair glistened in the sunlight coming in through the windows. His frustration turned to a smile when he met eyes with Hank once more. “Good morning, Hank. Did you sleep alright?”

That strange, uncomfortable tightness was back in Hank’s chest. He swallowed once, then twice, and looked at Sumo munching away happily at his breakfast. Then, he looked at the table, at the… at the damn flower from the garden they’d planted resting cheerfully in the kitchen glass at the center. No proper vase in this house, so Connor had made do. Made do with that, with breakfast, with… with Hank. 

Hank tightened his grip on the back of the chair, finding himself swallowing again. His mouth was so dry. He looked at Connor and wondered when he’d last been so happy. 

Connor cocked his head, putting his spatula down on the counter. He furrowed his brow. “Hank?” he said gently, closing the distance between him. “Is everything okay?”

Okay? Hank’s eyes stung at the thought. Is everything okay? Okay didn’t do it justice. It didn’t do enough to say how he felt, how goddamn good it was to wake up to the sun, the scent of warm food and laughter and his damn dog being an asshole to the one person he had who gave a damn about how he’d slept the night before. Hank let go of the seat back and took Connor by the shoulders. He looked into warm, chocolate brown eyes…

...and he kissed Connor. 

He kissed the surprise, the pancakes, the fucking flower in that chipped glass at the centerpiece of their little breakfast table. He wrapped his arms around it all, around the one who made it possible, and he didn’t give a fuck if that skillet was still on the stove or if Sumo got it in his head to take the chance this was to steal another pancake or two. Because right now, Hank felt good. 

He felt so good that sleep was the furthest thing from his mind, and Connor the first thing on it. 


	2. Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk, i just started writing and went with what happened next. took like ten minutes, enjoy.

Connor’s hands were small, his skin thin and pale. In Hank’s palms, they looked tiny. Delicate. 

“Hank?”

Hank looked up, turning those hands over in his, bringing one to his lips to drag his mouth against the soft underside of Connor’s wrist. Connor’s breath stuttered--a show. He didn’t need to breathe, but those reactions were stronger now that he’d gone deviant. He was growing more and more human every day. Hank pinched a bit of skin between his teeth, eliciting a sharp gasp. 

Too beautiful. God, what had he done to deserve something like this? 

With a sigh Hank pulled himself away from Connor’s hands, setting them down on the bed on either side of the android’s head. They framed his face. That hair, messy now. Those eyes, wide and watchful, as deep and dark as chocolate. Connor cocked his head and parted his lips, the question held at bay but his LED still yellow, asking regardless. Why the hold up? Why was Hank going slow now? 

Hank hung his head a bit, hiding his smile with his hair. He dipped down and put his lips to Connor’s neck, then lower still to mouth at the thirium pump he knew was hiding just beneath the projected skin. It was warmer there. Kinetic in a way that made his lips tingle. Connor wriggled against the sheets, straining a little beneath Hank’s hands. 

“Hank? What are you doing?”

“Who knows?” Hank mumbled, squeezing Connor’s wrists as he ran the length of his tongue over the pump, the core that kept Connor moving, sassing, living. His heart. Fucking romantic shite, he’d say if someone tried to say the same to him. But in the privacy of the moment, in the solitude of their bed, he could indulge. 

He could set himself to forgetting just how close Connor had come to bleeding out in his arms, core across the room and chest gaping. Empty. 

How had that felt? Did it hurt? Hank didn’t know, but he’d lived with a ruined heart for longer than he could remember, so maybe he could pretend he did. Connor didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve an ounce of that. He was good, worth something...

Hank blinked when the skin receded beneath his lips. He lifted his head a little, looking down at the exposed thirium pump. It glowed a soft blue against the white of Connor’s exoskeleton. He looked up and found Connor with his eyes closed, his face turned towards the wall. Mouth dry, lips hot, Hank tried to clear his throat. 

“Uh… You mean to do that?” He’d never shown any part of himself to Hank that wasn’t human looking. This was… New. 

Connor closed his eyes tighter, giving a short shrug. Didn’t come off as very convincing with his hands still held to the pillow. “Who knows?” he mumbled as his cheeks darkened. He slowly cracked open an eye. “Just… I trust you, Hank. Whatever it is you want to do.”

Ah. That… hit Hank somewhere in the gut. Definitely hard enough to stagger him. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, turning his head back towards the exposed core. To Connor’s most vulnerable part. His… His goddamn heart. Jesus, this was just supposed to be a normal lay. Just something to kill time and whittle away the afternoon. 

When had it turned into something like…  _ this.  _

Hank sighed, lowering himself to Connor’s chest, his tongue and lips worshipping the warm metal, the smooth plastic. Something like static tickled him with every kiss he gave. Connor let out a ragged, shaky gasp, twisting back and forth, almost as if he were warring it out with himself whether or not he liked the attention. He clenched his hands into fists and strained against Hank’s grip. He’d be able to break it if he wanted. His hands didn’t leave the pillow, though. He was right where he wanted to be, staring up at the ceiling with wide, blown eyes, LED a vibrant, persistent yellow. 

“Hank,” he breathed, just a whisper almost blotted out with the sound of shifting sheets and pounding blood. “H-Hank. I trust you.”

His hands were so small in Hank’s. His wrists so slender, his body so fucking breakable. Hank closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Connor’s sternum, barely believing his luck. 

It’d be so easy to ruin everything he had. 

So easy, and Connor showed him his heart anyway. 

Fuck. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for roomba mom! thanks for the coffee!

Connor pulled off a piece of tape from the roll and held down the corner of the wrapping paper, taping it in place precisely dead center. He smoothed down the edges, crisped up the corners, and held the present in his hands, a small smile on his face. The bright pink paper was speckled with smiling cartoon dogs, some with voice bubbles above their heads showcasing various dog-related words. Bark, woof, grr—It was cute, Connor thought. He had a feeling Sumo would love it.

“Hank, I’ve finished wrapping the present,” Connor called out, looking over the back of the sofa and towards the kitchen where Hank was just pulling out the newly baked dog treats they’d spent all morning making together. Hank set the pan on the stovetop and turned off the oven, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow. When Connor smiled at him, Hank flushed a little.

“Good job,” he answered, pulling off his old, stained oven mitt. “I mean, I still don’t get why you bothered wrapping the thing when Sumo’s just gonna eat it anyway, but good work.”

Connor held up the newly wrapped present. “I think I did a good job with it,” he said, every angle of the box perfect. He’d spent awhile researching the best methods for gift wrapping. “Do you like it, Hank? Do you think Sumo will like it?”

Hank let out a low sigh and pushed off the stove, walking into the living room to take the present from him. He examined it from every angle, his eye critical as he took it in. “You’re missing something,” he said after a moment of silence. Hank drummed his finger on the top part of the box. “You didn’t say who it was from.”

Connor’s lips curled into a frown. He covered it with his hand, his fingers curling loosely as he pondered that. It was illogical to think Sumo would know the difference, or that he would think the present came from someone else. But… it was important to make this perfect. He loved Sumo, so he needed to make it perfect.

“What should we do?” Connor asked, noticing how Hank was smiling at him now. A bright smile, his lips curved upwards into a grin. “Hank? What’s so funny?”

He handed him the present once more and leaned over the couch, ripping off an extra piece of wrapping paper and snagging a stray pen from the pile of craft supplies Connor had purchased in hopes of making Sumo’s birthday great. “Just you,” Hank chuckled, scrawling their names on the paper with a messy hand. To Sumo, from Hank + Connor. He slapped it on top of the present and pressed a kiss to Connor’s stunned cheek. “Tape that on top. Then it’ll be perfect.”

Connor touched his cheek with the tips of his fingers, his LED flickering yellow. Hank ruffled his hair and went back into the kitchen, whistling as he pulled the cooled treats from the pan and began stacking them onto a platter.

He pulled off a piece of tape from the roll and tacked down the messy, scrawled label. Sumo was going to love this, Connor thought. They loved Sumo, and that made it as perfect as perfect could get.

**Author's Note:**

> short, sweet, but to the point i think, and it was a good little thing to tide you guys over until im fully off my fic hiatus. if you liked this consider leaving a comment! and if you wanna see more of me, check me out on twitter (tdcloud_writes), tumblr (terminallydepraved), and amazon/kindle for my published works (T.D. Cloud)! until next time!


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